Sleeping Arrangements
by LaylaBinx
Summary: "I think it would be a good idea if we slept together," Cassian blurts suddenly. "Okay," Bodhi says like this is a completely normal conversation to be having. Basically these two have a lot of trouble sleeping and think it would be better if they do it together. Fluff, angst, h/c ensues!


**Hello all! Hope you're doing well! I was originally planning on making this a one-shot and tying it into Fight or Flight but this story got long in a hurry and it seemed better to make it a stand alone. Hope you all like it! :D**

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Cassian sleeps with a gun beneath his pillow. He's done it ever since he was a child, almost longer than he can remember. Of course it wasn't a gun at first, it had been a sharpened stick. His father didn't quite trust him with a gun yet (although raising him in the middle of a warzone was perfectly acceptable for some reason) but he wasn't about to let his son go to sleep at night without some kind of weapon nearby so a sharpened stick it was. He upgraded to a knife shortly after that and gun on his tenth birthday. Nothing says welcome to manhood like a small, concealable blaster that could take out a full grown man with the flick of a trigger.

The gun became a constant presence in his life, the one thing he could rely on above all others. _'You hang onto that gun, Cassian,'_ his father had told him the night he gave it to him. _'That gun could mean the difference between life and death for you and those you love. Keep it close and keep it ready.'_

He obeyed his father's advice and kept the gun with him at all times. It's an older model now, outdated and archaic, but he refuses to give it up. He still has it now, it's one of the few things he kept from his childhood, and it stays tucked under his pillow every night. He feels safer with it there, ready and prepared for anything at a moment's notice. With that gun he has a fighting chance no matter what happens and he doesn't go to sleep without it.

He can't sleep tonight, though. He's not sure why but he can't make himself relax, shut off his busy mind and tell it to be quiet. He stares at the ceiling for an hour and then at the wall for two and sleep doesn't come. He tries counting and meditating and every other trick he can think of to induce a sense of relaxation and none of it works. He's awake and restless and growing more irritable by the second.

His hand drifts beneath the pillow and his fingers brush the cool metal of the gun. It's solid and familiar, an old friend made of metal and memories. He lays there for a few more seconds, fingers resting against the grip, before he sighs, gives up trying to sleep, and sits up. He pulls the gun from its place beneath his pillow and tucks it into the waistband of his pants as he stands up. He can't sleep so he might as well make a security round of the ship since he's awake.

They're docked safely at holding station on a trade planet but Cassian doesn't trust the word "safe" unless he comes up with it for himself. There have been far too many time when he was told it was safe and then everything went to hell. Safe is a matter of opinion and Cassian is a man of opinions. He slips out into the hallway, gun warm and solid against the small of his back, and begins making his rounds.

Everyone is asleep this time of night and Cassian is loathe to admit that he's a bit envious of that. He hears nothing but the quiet breathing and soft snoring of his crew as he passes each room of the ship, stopping briefly to peek inside at the sleeping occupants. He's a captain, it's his job to keep an eye on his crew, but they're also his friends and he has a more vested interest in ensuring their safety and well-being that doesn't include occupational proximity.

He finds everyone safe and accounted for, deeply asleep and oblivious to his nocturnal inspection. Everything is normal except for Bodhi's room which looks like it's been hit by either a tornado or a grenade. Cassian stops at his door and looks inside.

There are books and maps and schematics strewn absolutely everywhere, spread across desks and tabletops and bedspreads. A holographic projector plays something on repeat from a tablet on the desk, casting the room in a soft blue glow. It's organized chaos, a controlled bombing, and Bodhi is right in the middle of it.

He's asleep sitting up against the wall, completely surrounded by books and papers. He's managed to kick most the blankets off on the floor while somehow still managing to keep all his papers and files on the bed around him. It's an impressive feat, to say the least.

Not for the first time, Cassian finds himself staring at the thin, wiry pilot. He doesn't know what these feelings are that he has for Bodhi or when they decided to appear. He just became aware of them one day, quite suddenly, and they've grown more intense with each passing day. He finds his mind filled with images of the pilot's smile and his warm, dark eyes, and it leaves him reeling and unstable. It's a strange feeling, to be sure, but not an unpleasant one.

His mind has been a mess lately, tormented and tantalized by thoughts of the pilot. He refuses to let himself get distracted by them during the day, not when there are missions and assignments and work to be done. He keeps himself busy and he doesn't let himself think because that will almost certainly be his downfall. But at night, when it's quiet and still and he has nothing but his own thoughts to turn to, he's left at their mercy. He's helpless against them, vulnerable and fragile like a piece of broken glass that's spider webbing dangerously outward. During the day he can ignore his own mind but at night he has no choice but to face it.

So he stands there, staring at Bodhi and listening to his mind list all the reasons why falling in love with him is a great and terrible idea. His brain even goes so far as to create a pro/con list for him which is extremely helpful but all together wasted because both sides make a compelling argument. He can't come up with a suitable course of action, not at 3:18 in the morning, and he resigns himself to suffering with these feelings until further notice.

That doesn't stop him from stepping into the room, carefully avoiding stacks of books and papers scattered everywhere, and approaching the bed. Bodhi is surprisingly dead to the world, oblivious to the other man's presence. The pilot is usually so high strung and wound up that the slightest noise would jolt him awake when he actually did find the time to sleep. Not tonight though; it looks like exhaustion won out over stubbornness. Bodhi is asleep but only because his body refused to be awake any longer and he couldn't fight it. His last streak of resistance is evident in the fact that he's still sitting up, adamantly refusing to admit to anyone, even himself, that he's tired.

Cassian finds himself smiling softly. _Stubborn to the end._

He's careful not to wake him up as he reaches down and grabs the blanket Bodhi has kicked off on the ground. The papers shuffle quietly when he slides them off and he curses silently, eyes darting to the sleeping pilot. Bodhi is still slumped against the wall, asleep and completely unaffected by the noise and movement.

Cassian sighs quietly and carefully drapes the blanket over the sleeping man's legs. He hesitates for a moment, convinced the change in pressure over his legs will cause Bodhi to wake up. It doesn't and he sighs again.

The room goes back to being quiet and still, only the sound of their combined breathing filling the void of silence. Cassian stares at Bodhi for a few more silent seconds, memorizing the curve of his jaw and the sharp outline of his nose. He stares until he forces himself to pull away and walk back toward the door, leaving the pilot asleep against the wall. He doesn't want to leave, not really, but he really doesn't have a good excuse if Bodhi wakes up and finds him in his room and honestly it's so late he just doesn't want to deal with that right now.

He walks back to the door and glances back at the pilot, eyes lingering a few seconds more. Satisfied that he's still asleep, he turns and heads back to his room. It's far too late (or early depending on the opinion) for him to be up and wandering the ship so he figures retiring back to his room is the bed option.

The door slides open quietly and he steps inside, walking back over to his own bed and dropping down onto the mattress. He pulls the gun out of his waistband and hesitates before putting it away. _That gun could mean the difference between life and death for you and those you love_. His father's words echo through his head again, decades old but just as clear as ever. He'd never had to use to to protect anyone but himself but he thinks that's changed now. He thinks about his crew, about Bodhi, and knows he would have no problem pulling the trigger if it meant keeping them safe.

He tucks the gun back under his pillow, a familiar place for a familiar weapon. Sighing heavily, he slumps back onto the mattress and stretches out along its length.

His mind is still active and busy but it's not nearly as distracting as it was before. He feels better now, having walked around the ship. He feels better now that he's seen Bodhi. He thinks about it, as much as he's been avoiding it lately, and decides that maybe loving Bodhi isn't such a terrible idea after all.

He thinks about Bodhi and he closes his eyes.

 **OOOOO**

Bodhi can't sleep. He's wide awake and staring at the ceiling and gripping a fistful of the sheets covering his torso. He has no idea what time it is but it doesn't really matter. He's not going back to sleep anytime soon and he knows that.

He's always had a complicated relationship with sleep, ever since he was a child. He's fought with insomnia since he was eight and sleepwalking since he was eleven. The nightmares started more recently, within the past few years, and when he's not suffering with insomnia he makes up for it with the nightmares.

Tonight it had been a nightmare. He doesn't remember what, he hardly ever does, but it jerked him back to consciousness with a startled gasp and a flail of his arms. He didn't fall out of bed but only just; the knuckles of his left hand are bruised from crashing into the floor and catching him before he could topple off the mattress. He spent the next seven minutes trying to control his breathing and heart rate, forcing himself to take slow, measured breaths to curve the waves of panic swelling right beneath the surface. The nightmares always leave him like this, shaky and wrecked and right on the verge of complete panic. He hates it but he's learned to deal with it.

He sighs and slumps against the wall after it's all said and done, drained from a dream he can't remember. Bad nights like this usually leave him mentally and emotionally strung out for several hours after the fact and he just accepts it as an inevitability now. He thinks he should probably talk to someone about this at some point but he can't quite convince himself to do it. It's a problem for the future and right now he's dealing with the present.

Giving up the bed, he stands slowly and walks to the door. They're not due to arrive at their next port until sometime tomorrow but he feels the need to go check the flight controls anyway. He's a pilot after all, it's his job to make sure the ship goes where it's supposed to.

He steps out into the hall, barefoot and quiet, and makes his way toward the front of the ship. He's still not sure what time it is but it's kind of an abstract concept out here; day and night mean nothing in the vastness of space so he settles with "dark" and just goes from there.

No one else should be up yet, at least no one with any kind of common sense or regard for their physical and mental well-being, which is why he's surprised to see Cassian sitting at the controls with his back to him. Bodhi freezes momentarily, mostly because he hadn't expected to see anyone else but also because he _definitely_ hadn't expected to see Cassian.

The captain...does things to him. He's not sure when it started or how but he finds himself turning into a babbling, clumsy fool every time he's within sight distance of Cassian and honestly it's just embarrassing. He gets flustered and tongue-tied when Cassian is around and it's worse when he's within close proximity to him. He's tried to control it, force himself to act like a functional member of society instead of a stuttering idiot, but it doesn't work. When Cassia is around, Bodhi is a wreck.

He stands there, frozen and contemplating in the hall for several seconds, wondering if he can sneak back to his room without the captain noticing. He hates that he's considering backing down, retreating, but he knows for a fact he's not emotionally or mentally stable enough to be around Cassian tonight. It will end badly, he knows that, and he's trying to figure out a plan of escape.

"Bodhi?"

 _Damn._

The pilot blinks and looks up, eyes meeting the captain's. The older man has turned slightly in his seat, looking back over his shoulder to face him more fully. "What are you doing up here?"

Bodhi weighs his options: man up and answer the question or bail and rush back to his room? He swallows, lifts his chin a little, and walks forward.

"I couldn't sleep," he replies honestly, making his way to the flight deck confidently even though his legs feel a little shaky as he walks. He manages to get to the second pilot's seat without tripping which feels like an enormous victory and he sinks down into it.

"I could ask you the same question," he retorts, eyeing the captain carefully. He hasn't stumbled or stuttered yet and he's feeling a little cocky.

Cassian offers him a small grin and all that cockiness fades in an instant as the tips of Bodhi's ears flush and burn. "I couldn't sleep either," the captain admits, leaning back in the chair lazily. There's absolutely nothing sexual about it, not in the least, and yet Bodhi's stomach does a gleeful flip and catapults somewhere up near the vicinity of his throat.

Cassian is perfectly, beautifully oblivious to all of this and he turns his attention to the vast expanse of space and starlight stretching endlessly in front of them. "It's mesmerizing," he says quietly, almost as if he's speaking to himself. "Watching the stars like this. It doesn't make the insomnia seem so terrible, you know?"

Bodhi nods slowly because he does know, he's done the exact same thing countless times over. He doesn't know how many times he's laid awake in his bunk, staring out at the inky blackness that stretches on forever. He'd let his eyes wander from one distant star to another, tracking the spaces in between them and the worlds he couldn't see. It always made him feel better somehow and apparently it had the same effect on Cassian.

"So you don't sleep either?" he blurts suddenly, instantly regretting the tumble of words that sprang from his mouth. He curses silently and clenches one fist. He's never been very good at flirting...

The pilot clears his throat, trying to be casual and nonchalant, but the noise comes out halting and choked like a malformed cough. Cassian looks at him and quirks an eyebrow and Bodhi recovers quickly. "I mean, do you have nights like this a lot?" He gestures around their shared area vaguely. "Nights when you can't sleep?"

The captain nods but there's a look in his eye that Bodhi can't quite place. He's watching the pilot for a reaction but he's very subtle about it. He's watching him without watching him? Did that make sense? Bodhi doesn't know, he's sleep deprived.

"Sometimes," Cassian says finally, his eyes still leveled on the other man. "Some nights are worse than others but I suppose we're all victim to that." He lifts his chin slightly and there's the promise of a follow up question with the gesture. "I'm assuming you have nights like this too?"

Bodhi nods slightly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious and insecure. The way Cassian is looking at him, dark eyes leveled and sharp, it makes him feel incredibly nervous. "More often than I care to admit," he tells him quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. He has to look away; he's not sure what will happen if he meets Cassian's gaze right now.

"Dreams, nightmares, insomnia," he continues, rambling mental and emotional disturbances like a shopping list. "I don't have the healthiest sleep record."

The captain is still watching him, silent but contemplative. "Have you tried talking to anyone about it?" he asks, his full attention leveled on his companion.

Bodhi flushes again and he hopes it's too dark to see it. "Never had the time," he says with a small shrug. It's not a complete lie so he feels marginally better for it.

"The Empire certainly didn't care and we've all been so busy lately now that the Death Star has been destroyed…" he fades off, raking on hand through his hair absently. A few wayward strands slip loose and he pushes them back quickly. He thinks he sees Cassian's hand twitch, almost like he was about to reach out and do it for him, but he also might have imagined that.

There's a brief silence, nothing but the hum of the ship around them filling the void. Cassian understands, Bodhi knows he does; they've all been running themselves ragged for the past few months and there was little to no end in sight for the time being. Still, it was nice to have some kind of shared experience in the matter, it made it seem more worthwhile in moments like this.

"You could talk to me," Cassian says finally, the proposition sounding strangely timid and hesitant as the captain spoke. It was almost like he was afraid of rejection. "I mean we both have our own demons to face, that's unavoidable, but if you need someone to talk to once in awhile…" he fades off with a kind of half-shrug, half-hunch that says he really doesn't know how to handle feelings either but he's trying, dammit, it's progress.

Bodhi smiles, warm and soft, and nods slowly. "That would be nice," he answers earnestly, his stomach doing another complicated flip when Cassian smiles back at him. "I'd like that."

"Good," the captain says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I'd like that too."

The both fall silent then, content in each other's company and the silence and solitude of the ship around them. They settle back into their chairs, side by side, and watch the stars.

 **OOOOO**

"You're pacing."

"I'm not pacing."

"You most definitely are."

"I'm not," Cassian counters sharply, shooting a glare at the watchful droid across the room. "I'm just walking."

"Quickly," K-2 replies, expression and tone unreadable. "In small, confined circles with notable levels of either anxiety or agitation. Last I checked that's called pacing."

Cassian resists the urge to growl. Okay, yes, he's pacing and he's been pacing for the past twenty or so minutes now. He's thinking and he thinks better when he's walking or doing something other than sitting still so pacing was the best viable option for the situation at hand. The ship they're on right now, a much smaller, more compact version of the ship they usually travel on, is very limited on space so he's forced to pace in circles in the small hallway between the cargo hold and the flight deck.

"May I ask why?" K-2 asks, persistent as ever even though his level of genuine interest is probably close to nonexistent.

Cassian hesitates before answering, weighing his words carefully. "I'm thinking," he says finally, vaguely.

K-2 blinks once. "About Bodhi?"

The captain nearly trips. The question had been so blunt and straightforward that he wasn't quite sure how to respond at first. There had been no indication that the pilot had indeed been on his mind and yet K guessed correctly on the first try. He's remarkably receptive, that droid, a little too much for his own good sometimes.

One of the good things about K though was, since he was a droid, there was no personal or vested interest in the questioning of someone's love life. It was a detached, objective kind of curiosity that was clearly meant to come across as vaguely polite although, once again, his actual interest in the answer was minimal.

Cassian grumbles quietly in the back of his throat and nods slightly in response. He's been warring with himself for the past day and half about a question/proposition/arrangement he's been meaning to bring up to Bodhi and he just hasn't managed to do it yet. He's not sure if he's worried about rejection or a possible display of weakness/vulnerability on his part but he's been fighting with himself for nearly two days now.

It was clear that he and Bodhi both had sleep issues and dealt with their fair share of ghouls and demons during the night. It was an undeniable fact and something both of them had learned to deal with over the years. Cassian has an idea, however, that a shared sleeping space might help alleviate some of their nocturnal disturbances. Through both proximity and a stronger sense of safety and security brought on by said proximity, perhaps they might be able to subdue some the aforementioned demons and get some damn sleep for once.

This ship is much smaller than their other one, strictly a cargo ship rather than a passenger ship. It has enough room for the two of them (plus a snippy droid) but not much else. There's one full sized bed on board and another smaller bed that's little more than a mattress tucked into a corner. It's uncomfortable and cramped and Cassian reasons, he thinks quite logically, that it just makes more sense for them to share the larger bed and be comfortable rather than suffering with the smaller one.

So two, strong and valid reasons for sharing a bed. Having a bedmate might help alleviate some nightmares and anxiety and sharing a bed is just more comfortable and logical than trying to fight with one and a half. It makes perfect sense. But he's going to be asking Bodhi to share a bed with him and all of Cassian's logic and persuasive arguments go out the window. Just thinking about bringing the proposition up leaves him feeling tongue-tied and dumb and he can't make the words come out no matter how hard he tries.

"It's just...complicated," he says finally, gesturing helplessly with one hand.

K-2 tilts his head to one side, fixing Cassian with an unreadable expression. "Is it?"

Cassian grumbles under his breath. "Yes, K, it is. Just...drop it, alright?"

"Alright," the droid says with a shrug, turning on his heel and walking out of the room. It's obvious his interest in this conversation is over and there are better things he could be doing. Just as well, honestly. Cassian doesn't feel like trying to explain the complicated aspects of the feelings he has for Bodhi and-

There's a tremendous crash from the down the hall and Cassian can't stop himself from flinching in surprise. A few seconds later K-2 steps out into the hall, away from the enclave where the second, smaller bed was located.

"Oh no," the droid says, his voice tinged with mock despair. "A shelf collapsed and destroyed the bed. How unfortunate." He turns down the opposite hallway toward the cargo hold, purposefully walking away before Cassian has a chance to catch up with him.

The captain blinks for a second before shaking his head in disbelief. Surely he didn't. There's no way…

He walks over to where the second bed was tucked away and sees not one but two heavy metal shelves crushing the mattress. The bedframe is obviously broken and Cassian knows he can't lift those shelves by himself, let alone repair the damage to the bed. The shelves had landed in just the right position to completely cover the length of the bed and it's clear, judging by their position and the twisted metal braces that had secured them to the wall that they didn't just "collapse." In all honesty, it looks like they were pulled down or forcibly removed from the wall and dropped in that exact place.

Cassian growls and glares toward the hallway the droid disappeared into. Of all the convoluted, destructive…

Bodhi appears a split second later, shoving his goggles up into his hair as he rounds the corner. He's wide-eyed and anxious and Cassian swallows hard. "What happened? Are you alright? I heard a loud crash-"

He fades off when he sees the broken shelves and collapsed bed and frowns. "Oh wow," he says, somewhat in awe of the damage. "How did this happen?"

"I'm pretty sure K had something to do with it," Cassian grumbles irritably, nudging a twisted piece of metal with his boot. "I don't think we'll be able to fix it until we reach our next port."

Bodhi is still staring at the bed, marveling at the destruction. "That's a bit problematic," he says, although his voice is a little distant like he's spoken without realizing it. "This ship only had two beds on board."

And suddenly it all makes sense and Cassian wants to simultaneously hug and throttle K. Destroying the second bed had effectively solved his current problem; maybe not in the most poetic sense but it was effective.

He sighs heavily, pushes a hand through his hair, and turns to face Bodhi. "Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he says, hating how his voice wavers a bit as he speaks.

The pilot tears his attention away from the bed and looks up at him, brown eyes dark and intense. Cassian swallows again.

"I think it would be a good idea if we slept together," he blurts suddenly.

 _Fuck._

He regrets it almost immediately, a rush of heat and blood burning up the sides of his face and into the tips of his ears. All he can think of is that Bodhi will see the destroyed bed as a ploy, some kind of setup to put him in an uncomfortable position that was all Cassian's doing. Maybe he'll think Cassian is some kind of deviant, a pervert who manipulates things to get his way. Maybe he'll just flat out refuse and offer to sleep on the floor. All of this runs through Cassian's mind in a matter of seconds and he stumbling to amend his words.

"I mean, I know you have trouble sleeping. I have trouble sleeping too. I just thought it might help us both to sleep together," he explains, the words tumbling out like a landslide. He's rambling, he knows it, but he can't stop.

"This wasn't on purpose," he says, gesturing to the bed awkwardly. "I mean it was, K did it, but I didn't tell him to. I was just trying to figure out a way to suggest the sleeping arrangement without it being weird and-"

"Okay," Bodhi says simply.

Cassian stops mid-sentence and mid-gesture. "Okay…?"

The pilot nods with a small, soft smile. "Okay."

Cassian opens his mouth to respond, closes it, opens it again, and finally gives up with a soft clack of teeth.

Bodhi takes pity on him and offers him another warm smile. "You're right," he says simply with a small shrug. "Neither of us have the best track record when it comes to sleeping alone so it might be beneficial to try sleeping together for a change." He flushes just slightly at the last part and it's adorable and Cassian feels his throat go a bit dry.

"I'm okay with it if you are," Bodhi continues and dammit all if his dark, beautiful eyes look hopeful when he speaks. Cassian swallows again.

"I'm okay with it too," the captain replies honestly and even though it was his idea he's still a little giddy about the outcome.

A heavy silence passes between them for a moment, neither really knowing what to say to continue to conversation or just leave it be. Finally, Bodhi breaks the silence with a soft, "Great!" and he rocks back on his heels a little. He looks like he wants to say something else but he can't think of anything to add. "Well I should, um, get back to the…" he gestures vaguely down the hallway he'd just come from.

"Yeah," Cassian says, shaking himself from his own silence with a nod. "Yeah I should go back to…" he gestures toward the front of the ship and Force sake, they're both hopeless at this.

Bodhi offers one more small smile before stepping away. "I'll see you tonight," he calls over his shoulder just as he ducks out of the room and Cassian can swear he sees another bright blush color his features.

"See you tonight," he calls back, turning back toward the front of the ship. He's alone now, just him and the flight deck, and no one can see the grin he's trying to hide.

 **OOOOO**

The first time they sleep together, Bodhi punches Cassian in the face. He doesn't mean to and he regrets it instantly. It had been a primal reaction, one he couldn't control, and he hadn't broken the other man's nose but it had been close.

The night had started off well enough, a little hesitant and awkward at first but comfortable all the same. He has no idea what time it is when he finally finishes his reports but Cassian is waiting up for him. He finds the captain sitting in one of the flight chairs at the front of the ship, gazing out at the sprawl of stars in front of them.

He'd banished K-2 to the back of the ship, still irritated with the stunt he'd pulled earlier in the day. The droid griped and grumbled, grousing that no one appreciated his work and that a simple 'thank you' would be nice. Cassian refuses to say it out loud but he is secretly grateful for the droid's destruction; K-2 can _never_ find out about that.

Neither of them were sure how to suggest retiring to the bed for the evening. Sure, they'd talked about it earlier in the day and both parties agreed that sharing a bed was a good idea but that had been hours ago and now that it was time to actually share said bed, both of them were hesitant and a bit nervous.

Cassian made the first move, an event for which Bodhi is infinitely grateful, and stood slowly, inclining his head ever so slightly in the direction of the bed. The pilot blushed in spite of his best effort because Force, this was actually happening and he couldn't quite keep the flare of heat that swept across his face. He ducked his head quickly and followed Cassian out of the room, hoping the other hadn't seen the flush of color as he passed.

Cassian kicked his boots off at the door and dropped down on the mattress, scooting back the edge so that his hip was resting against the wall. The bed was _just_ large enough to accommodate the two of them but it would be a tight, close fit and the level of closeness and intimacy that would be required for both of them to sleep comfortably wasn't mentioned.

Bodhi hesitated as long as he could before joining the captain on the bed. It wasn't because of Cassian but at the same time it was 100% because of Cassian. His stomach had been doing acrobatics all afternoon at the thought of sharing the bed with the other man and now that he was actually doing it he was equal parts giddy and terrified.

Realizing it was beginning to look suspicious, he kicked off his boots as well and dropped down next to Cassian. He slipped off his vest and fiddled with his hair, twisting the long, dark locks into a tight bun at the base of his skull. He could feel Cassian's eyes on him, watching silently, and it felt like a shot of pure adrenaline to know he had the captain's undivided attention.

When they both finally laid down and turned off the lights, it took a few minutes of shifting and maneuvering to find a comfortable position. An arm moved here, a leg there, feet tangled and hands clumsily intertwined. Eventually they found a good position, Bodhi's back pressed flat against Cassian's chest with the captain's arm curled around him loosely. It gave them the greatest amount of room on the mattress while still remaining at least semi-comfortable and really that was all they could ask for.

Bodhi doesn't remember how long he laid there, quiet and still in the dark, feeling the steady rise and fall of Cassian's chest against his back. He doesn't remember slipping his fingers in between Cassian's or the other man squeezing his hand gently in response. He doesn't remember falling asleep, slipping from one level of consciousness to the next and dropping down, down, down into the deep corners of his subconscious. He doesn't remember dreaming, what the dream entailed or why it affected him the way it did, but he does remember waking up because he woke up swinging.

There are arms around him, tight and restraining, and it causes him to panic. It's dark, he doesn't know who's holding him or why, all he knows is they're keeping him from running and that's what he desperately wants to do right now. He thrashes and struggles violently, wrenching one arm free and swinging back.

A solid crack fills the room, the sound of a closed fist meeting flesh and bone, and a pained grunt follows. Bodhi recognizes the voice immediately and lets out a shaky, disbelieving gasp.

The light flips on a second later and Cassian is covering his nose, stemming the dark trickle of crimson that's slipping out from between his fingers. His hair is sleep-mussed and he's a little dazed from the rather dramatic, painful awakening but he doesn't look angry. He's pinching his bleeding nose like this is a regular occurrence and for some reason that makes it worse.

Bodhi starts shaking; he can't help it. Whether it's from nerves or adrenaline or some combination of the two he's not sure but he's shaking all over and he can't stop.

Cassian looks at him, eyes widening a little in concern. "Bodhi, what-?"

"I'm sorry," the pilot blurts suddenly, voice trembling as he speaks. He sees the blood staining Cassian's fingers, the speckles of it on the sheets, and he shakes harder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

The words are tumbling out, repetitive and endless. He's shaking and apologizing and he's not sure where one begins and the other ends.

Cassian frowns deeply and reaches out to touch Bodhi's arm but the younger man jerks back like he's been burned. "Don't!" he cries sharply, eyes wide and a little frantic. Cassian looks stung and Bodhi chokes back a sob. "Please don't," he says again, voice catching in his throat. "Please...I don't want to hurt you again…"

The words feel like a punch in the gut and Cassian crumples a little with them. He wants to tell Bodhi that he's fine, it was an accident, but he doubts the other man will listen. The pilot is shaking all over, ashen and pale, and he looks like he's one step away from tumbling into a panic attack. So Cassian keeps his distance, as much as it pains him to do so, and he gives Bodhi some space.

It takes a minute or two for Bodhi to regain his composure, for his breathing to slow and his white-knuckle grip on the sheets to loosen. He shakes his head over and over, dark hair clinging to sweat-damp skin, and he rakes his fingers through it to pull it away from his face.

"I'm sorry," he says again, voice a little more even than it was before. "I didn't mean to…" he fades off and chances a glance up at Cassian, dark eyes flickering over his bruised and bloodied nose. He winces, both in sympathy and regret, and shakes his head again. "I knew this might be a problem. Maybe this sleeping arrangement wasn't such a good idea after all…"

Cassian sighs softly and shakes his head at this. "The sleeping arrangement isn't the problem," he says, leveling his gaze at the pilot. "And neither are you. I wasn't expecting this to work perfectly the first night. It's going to take time and work and yes, it might get physical sometimes," he says, gesturing a little toward his bruised nose. "But I still think it's better to work through it together than alone."

Bodhi looks at him in disbelief, wide, brown eyes glassy with the last traces of panic-induced tears. "I just punched you," he says simply. "In the face."

"I've had worse," Cassian counters, slowly moving closer to Bodhi and reaching out to lay his hand over the other man's. "It's okay, trust me." Bodhi doesn't flinch away this time which is progress and Cassian runs his thumb over the bumps of his knuckles lightly.

Bodhi sniffs miserably, shoulders slumping. He flips his hand over and laces his fingers with Cassian's, squeezing his hand gently. "I'm sorry," he says again because he feels like that's the only thing he can say now. He can't explain why he hit him, why he lashed out the way he did, he doesn't remember. Apologizing...that's really all he can do.

The captain offers him a small, slightly pained smile and shakes his head. "Don't be."

It takes a bit of convincing but Cassian finally manages to get Bodhi to lay back down on the bed with him. They leave the lights on and that seems to help. Both of them know they won't be sleeping but it doesn't really matter at the moment. For now just laying there is enough.

Cassian's nose isn't bleeding anymore; it's sore but it's not broken so he doesn't worry about it. Bodhi is still tense and wire-tight in his arms, rigid like a bowstring ready to snap. He's clinging to Cassian's hand like it's the only thing keeping him from bolting out of the room and honestly it probably is. He sighs and squirms and buries his face against Cassian's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles again for probably the fiftieth time.

"Don't be," Cassian tells him again for probably the fiftieth time as well.

Bodhi sighs in defeat and Cassian holds him close.

 **OOOOO**

Cassian has dreams sometimes. They're not nightmares, not exactly, but he wakes up feeling cold and uneasy. It's like waking up to find yourself standing on the edge of a precipice that overlooks an incomprehensible void. His stomach drops, his heart rate skyrockets, and he feels weak and unsteady like the ground itself is ready to abandon him at a moment's notice.

He's had dreams like this since he was a child, dreams he can't remember that leave him shaky and sick upon waking. It's not every night, not anymore, but they come often enough that he's grown to expect them at least once a week. There are no triggers, no warnings, nothing to indicate tonight will be the night; he just wakes up stiff and cold and shaking with a gasp on his lips and his fingernails digging half-moons into his palms from the fists clenched at his side.

On nights like that he usually gets up and walks around, checking the ship or writing reports or doing anything that will take his mind off of it. Problem is, he's not really sure what he's trying to keep his mind off _of._ The dreams, well...they're not dreams so much as feelings. The feeling of running and dodging, the feeling of fire at his back and lasers zipping overhead. When he has these dreams they're filled with fear and regret and anger. There are no faces or voices, images or scenes from his memory projected into his subconscious. He dreams of nothing but he feels _everything_ and it leaves him strung out and exhausted when he jolts himself awake.

He's tried to make sense of it since he was a child, to piece together an inky black puzzle into something resembling a coherent picture. He's never been able to. Aside from the feelings and emotions, there's just nothing there, it's all blank. He's dreamed before, he knows what dreams are, but these are different. He calls them dreams because he doesn't have another word for it, he doesn't know how else to describe them. Dreams, nightmares, he's not sure what they are but they've plagued him for years.

Bodhi asks him about it one night after Cassian wakes up gasping and covered in a cold sweat. His hand had gone for the blaster under his pillow automatically before he remembered that it wasn't there anymore; he moved it once Bodhi started sleeping with him. It's tucked beneath the mattress now, a bit harder to reach but less likely to get either of them shot accidentally in the middle of the night. It was still an adjustment but one Cassian was happy to make.

They'd been sleeping together for a little over a week now, fighting their demons and figuring out ways to break down the barriers they had both put up. Their walls were miles high, both of them, and it was going to take time to reach the top. Cassian had witnessed Bodhi's nightmares and sleep disturbances more than enough during that short amount of time and had developed a few methods of helping him when it happened. Bodhi, on the other hand, felt at a loss.

Cassian hardly ever showed his weaknesses and vulnerabilities, several layers of stoicism and self control built up over decades making it nearly impossible to see anything beyond the surface. Bodhi knew it was there, still waters run deep and all, but he didn't know how to help because he didn't know what the problem was. Not until he witnessed one of the nightmares at least.

It's a very subtle change, one that would probably have gone unnoticed if Bodhi wasn't such a light sleeper. There's a hitch in Cassian's breathing, soft and quick, and Bodhi wakes up. The captain's face is hard to see in the dim light of their bunk but the pilot can tell he's frowning. He shifts a bit, freeing one arm from the tangle of sheets and reaches out to touch Cassian's shoulder.

Cassian's dark eyes snap open quickly, instantly sharp and alert. He's breathing hard, faster than normal, and he looks around the room quickly as if reassuring himself of their surroundings.

Bodhi's hand is still hovering in the air a few inches away; he froze when Cassian woke up and hasn't moved since. He knows from his own experience that quick movements and changes in energy just make the panic and anxiety worse so he stays still and quiet and waits for Cassian to move.

After another second or so, the captain sighs quietly and slumps back against the mattress. His eyes land on Bodhi first and then Bodhi's hand and he reaches up, intertwining the pilot's fingers with his own and pulling both of their hands down to rest against his chest.

"Are you alright?" Bodhi asks after a moment, his voice quiet in the darkness of their bunk.

Cassian nods once in response, squeezing the other man's hand absently.

"What were you dreaming about?" Bodhi asks after another silent second passes.

Cassian is silent for a moment, considering his words carefully. He doesn't know how to explain the "dreams" to Bodhi without sounding crazy. He doesn't even know how to explain them to _himself_ without sounding crazy. But Bodhi deserve some kind of answer so he gives it to him.

"I'm not sure," he answers honestly, his thumb tracing a small circle around the prominence of Bodhi's knuckle. "They're not dreams in the traditional sense. They're...emotions, reactions. I don't see anything when I dream but I can feel it, if that makes sense?"

Surprisingly, Bodhi nods. "It does," he says simply. "My mother used to call them Dark Dreams; they're nightmares about nothing and dreams you can't remember."

The captain nods slowly, somewhat relieved that the phenomena wasn't all in his head and someone else knew what he was talking about. He's never been able talk about them for fear of ridicule or judgement or the simple fact that others wouldn't understand. Bodhi seems to understand though and for some reason that makes it better.

Bodhi spends the better part of the next hour gently questioning him about the Dark Dreams, carefully gathering information and putting to words an experience Cassian had struggled with for decades. He doesn't push or pry, he just talks to him and listens, learning as he goes.

It won't stop the dreams from happening, there's really no way to prevent that, but Bodhi knows what to do when they do happen and he's prepared. It happens again a few days later, silent and sudden as before, and Bodhi wakes up almost instantly.

He's never been a deep sleeper and there had been a time when he cursed that but he doesn't now. His light sleeping habits allow him to pick up on the tell-tale change in Cassian's breathing and he wakes up the second he hears the hitch.

The captain's hand goes underneath the pillow first and Bodhi reaches out and catches it as it does. He links his fingers with Cassian's, bringing the captain's hand to his mouth and brushing his lips across the back of his knuckles. When Cassian wakes a second or so later, breathless and tense, Bodhi hangs on.

They don't talk, they just lay there in the silence and darkness. Bodhi rests his forehead against Cassian's shoulder while the captain runs his fingertips over the numerous burns and scars that cover the pilot's hands and fingers. He'd remarked once before that there wasn't an inch of skin on Bodhi's hands that wasn't covered in some kind of scar or callous. It's endearing in a way, badges of labor and skill and mistakes. Cassian fixates on the scars and everything they represent, everything they make up. They're Bodhi, every one of them, and he memorizes the feeling of them beneath his fingertips as he traces the long lines of Bodhi's fingers in the darkness of their room.

They sit like that for a while, hand-in-hand and silent, and when Cassian does fall asleep again, he keeps his fingers linked with Bodhi's and it keeps him from drifting away into the darkness again.

 **OOOOO**

It doesn't happen very often but sometimes Bodhi wakes up gasping with tears staining his cheeks. He'll bolt upright, desperate and confused, letting out a continuous, breathless mumble of, "it's me, I'm the pilot...I'm the pilot…"

Those nights are the worst because unlike some of the other horrific experiences Bodhi has nightmares about, Cassian knows exactly where this one stems from. He remembers the first words the pilot ever said, broken and confused and more than a little lost. He remembers him repeating them over and over like it would somehow cement the memories into his brain. He remembers the wariness and hesitation and outright fear in Bodhi's eyes when they found him in that cell. He remembers all of that and it makes his jaws clench.

Bodhi's nightmares are bad, Cassian knows this as an absolute fact. He's gotten used to them over the past few weeks, figuring out how he should approach the situation judging by Bodhi's reaction to them. Some nights he would just hold him, stroking his soft, dark hair away from his face while the pilot tangled his fists in Cassian's shirt. Some nights he whispers soft, nonsensical lullabies against his temple as Bodhi's tears stain the sleeve of his shirt because Cassian knows, without asking, that he's been dreaming about his mother. But the nights he wakes up with Jedha in his heart and Bor Gulet on his mind...on those nights all Cassian can do is step away.

It seems cruel and callous and he hates when it happens but honestly it's the only way for Bodhi to calm down. Saw's tentacle monster hadn't just jacked with Bodhi's mind, it jacked with his personal boundaries and space as well. It stripped him of control and autonomy, leaving him helpless and at its mercy while it attempted to extract information from him. When Bodhi dreams about Bor Gulet, he dreams about being helpless.

Cassian knows better than to touch him after these dreams until Bodhi gives him the okay. He learned the hard way that his usual methods of touch therapy just made the panic and confusion worse. Bodhi has sent himself into panic attacks from nightmares before but it's a near certainty when he dreams about Bor Gulet.

The first night it happened, Cassian woke to the sound of struggling and choked sobs. Bodhi jolted upright, words catching in his throat and eyes wide and panicked. He was shaking so badly the entire bed was vibrating and his grip on the edge of the mattress was tight enough to cause his knuckles to crack.

Cassian frowned in concern and reached out, trying to pull the shaking pilot into his arms.

Bodhi reacted _badly_. He didn't know where he was at first, the grips of his dream still seeping into reality, and he tried to run. Cassian caught him before he could make it out of the room but Bodhi fought and struggled against him like a cornered animal. Cassian had had his fair share of experiences with this kind of reaction from the wiry pilot so he knew when to duck and dodge. He still got punched, that was unavoidable, but a busted lip is better than a broken jaw.

It took two full minutes to talk Bodhi down and help him realize that he wasn't stuck in Saw's torture chamber anymore. It took two full hours to help him piece himself back together again after he fell apart on the floor. Because no matter what he tells him, no matter how many times he assures Bodhi he's safe, Cassian can't take away that trauma and what it did to him.

Luckily these nightmare aren't as common, occurring only occasionally rather than routinely. Cassian learns from the first one and knows what to do the next time it happens.

On nights when Bodhi wakes up, fantic and trembling, the words "I'm the pilot" tumbling out of him in an endless litany, Cassian slides out of the bed slowly and gives him space. As much as it pains him, he knows physical contact will just make it worse so he forces himself to slip off the bed and leave the pilot shaking and alone in the center of the mattress.

He sinks down onto the floor and presses his back against the side of the mattress, his shoulder a few inches away from Bodhi's trembling form. He doesn't touch him, not quite, but he's close enough to feel the younger man's body heat against his back. He gives him space but he stays close, not willing to leave him completely alone.

It takes a few minutes for the panic attack to subside, for Bodhi's breathing to return to a slow, even draw, but when it does Cassian is there. He waits until Bodhi touches him, fingers light and hesitant against his shoulder, and then he turns and rejoins him on the bed. He pulls Bodhi to him, enveloping him in his arms and holding him close as the pilot buries his face in the side of Cassian's neck.

Bodhi is still shaking, residual tremors shuddering through his body and leaving him weak and clinging to Cassian like a lifeline. He's muttering softly, words too soft quiet to hear, but Cassian thinks it might his name.

He keeps him tucked in his arms and strokes his back as the shaking slowly subsides. Bodhi never says anything about the nightmares and Cassian never asks. He just holds on.

 **OOOOO**

"You're good for each other," Jyn remarks suddenly one day and Bodhi nearly stumbles. He frowns in confusion and looks at her, not quite understanding her meaning.

Jyn smiles a little nods toward where Cassian is standing a few yards away, discussing an assignment with another general. His eyes drift every once in awhile, gaze flickering over to where Bodhi and Jyn are tinkering with the ship. He looks over like he's reassuring himself they're both still there before looking back at the general. He probably thinks it's inconspicuous but Jyn has been aware of it for the past ten minutes.

"You and Cassian," she elaborates after a moment, passing Bodhi the tool he needs for the repair they're working on. "You're good together."

Bodhi accepts the tool and chuckles softly, slightly flustered by the frankness of her comment. "You think so?"

Jyn offers him another small smile and nods. "I do. He's happier when he's with you, more relaxed. I didn't think it was possible for someone like him to ever really relax but he does when you're around."

Bodhi flushes slightly and ducks his head beneath the control panel he's working on to prevent her from seeing it.

"It's okay, you know," Jyn continues, completely undeterred by Bodhi's efforts. "Falling in love. Finding someone who makes you happy." She leans back against the side of the ship, letting her head fall back against the cool metal. "Force knows that was a rarity while the Empire was still in control."

Bodhi tinkers with the control panel absently, listening to Jyn's words as she speaks. He clears his throat softly and looks back at her. "Have you ever found someone like that?" he asks, keeping his tone light and conversational.

Jyn shrugs loosely and shakes her head. "I've never really looked," she answers honestly, rolling her head to the side to meet his gaze. "I was too focused on survival when I was growing up to even think about the prospect of love or companionship. I'd never even considered it, to be completely honest."

She flashes a quick smile at him, equal parts bright and mischievous. "But I know what love looks like and how people act when they're in love. And trust me, Cassian has been in love with you for a long time."

Bodhi turns an interesting shade of vermilion at the statement and nearly smacks his forehead on the underside of the control panel when he starts to sit up.

Jyn chuckles and offers him her hand, pulling him the rest of the way up and out from under the control panel. They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, backs against the side of ship while the sounds of the hanger echo around them.

"I doubt it's love," Bodhi says after another moment or so passes, his gaze focused on Cassian's back. "We're friends, yes. Close friends, definitely, but I don't think he feels that way about me."

Jyn frowns. "What makes you think that?"

Bodhi shrugs one shoulder helplessly and sighs. "It's complicated," he says with a resigned breath. They'd never discussed the details of their relationship or what it was. Sharing a bed at night had become routine but it didn't extend into anything beyond that. There was nothing sexual about their relationship, nothing intimate, and Cassian was always so tight-lipped about any emotional reaction he might be feeling that it was impossible to tell what he actually felt.

When Cassian gripped his hand at night and when Bodhi twisted his fingers into the fabric of Cassian's shirt, it was because they were fighting against the nightmares that plagued them through the night, nothing more. Anything beyond that, a chaste kiss to the temple or the brush of lips across the backs of knuckles, that was always chalked up to comfort following a nightmare. They went on about their lives during the day, clinging to each other at night, and never brought it up in between. Bodhi doesn't know what they are and he's afraid to ask.

As much as he hoped for it, the idea of Cassian holding any kind of romantic feelings for him just seemed too far fetched. Bodhi was head over heels, he had been for months now, but he seriously doubts Cassian feels the same way. Their arrangement works without the unnecessary burden of labels so he never brings it up. He loves Cassian and he thinks that's as far as it will ever go.

"Cassian...well…" He sighs and starts again. "He's a great guy. I mean he's a captain of the Rebellion and I'm just…"

He fades off and doesn't finish so Jyn bumps his knee with her own. "You're just what?"

Bodhi shrugs one shoulder and gestures vaguely to himself. "Me."

Jyn makes a face. "What's wrong with being just you?"

Bodhi nearly laughs because he could fill up an entire book with answers to that question but he refrains and just shakes his head a little.

Jyn watches him for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn't, she settles back against the wall of the ship again and gazes up at the ceiling of the hangar. "Despite what you may think, there's nothing wrong with 'just you', Bodhi Rook. You're every bit as brave, strong, and determined as Cassian is. Stubborn, too," she says bumping his knee again.

That earns her a small smile in response. Jyn smirks and continues.

"I know you've been through a lot, especially because of the Empire, but that hasn't made you unworthy of love. You're a defector, not defective."

Bodhi smiles again but says nothing. He wants to disagree with her but he knows she won't listen. One of the first things the Empire beat out of their soldiers was any idea of self worth. Bodhi spent years being told he was replaceable and worthless, a small cog in an endless machine of identical parts. He was nameless and faceless for years, an ID number and the occasional title of 'pilot' tossed his way. No one would grieve for him if he was killed on an assignment, no one would miss him. He doubts they would even realize he was gone for a while. It wasn't until he defected that they gave him a name and started paying attention.

He'd never been a very good soldier for the Empire, never followed the rules well enough or supported their ideas. He'd been taken from Jedha when he was only a child and had grown up with the Empire looming over his shoulder ever since. They were omnipresent and constant and Bodhi hated it. What they stood for, what they represented, he never got behind it. He'd been a defective soldier even before he defected.

So when he finally did get free of them, when he defected back to Jedha with the information needed to destroy their weapon, he found himself back home on a planet that didn't want him. When he was captured, he figured he'd just traded one set of shackles for another. Defector, defective, those words felt interchangeable.

He still feels it sometimes, even months later. The Empire tried to make him callous and numb but it just made him wary. They tried to make him loyal and obedient and it just made him want to get away more. He didn't belong to the Empire anymore and he didn't know if he belonged to the Rebellion. He didn't think he belonged anywhere.

That changed when he met Cassian and Jyn and the others. In them he found friends and a family; he found a home. He found something he wanted to fight for even though sometimes he feels like it's not his place to fight for it. He still had moments when he felt like he didn't belong, when he questioned his place among their little ragtag group. Sometimes he felt like an intruder who just implanted himself into their lives, uninvited and unwelcome.

He was still linked to the Empire and everything the Rebellion fought against. He was a constant reminder of everything they lost and everything they sacrificed. It marked him like a stain, following him everywhere. He still feels defective.

He doesn't expect that to change anytime soon; years of negative conditioning can't be undone easily. But he likes to think that maybe one day he'll get there, one day he may not feel like this anymore. It's a nice thought, at least.

So when Jyn tells him he's not defective, he wants to tell her that he is but he doesn't. He just smiles and shrugs.

Jyn seems to read his thought process without him saying anything. She's weirdly good at that and Bodhi makes it a point to question her about it at some point when he has the time. "My father used to feel the same way you do," she tells him quietly, watching him from the corner of her eye. "I was too young to understand it at the time but my father knew what the Empire was planning, what they were trying to build, and he felt like he'd sold his soul to the Dark Side because of it."

She looks away, eyes flickering over the hangar again. "I remember there was a night when my mother and father were arguing after I went to bed. I think they were trying to stay quiet to keep from waking me but I heard it. My father was trying to convince my mother to leave and take me with her, that it was the only way we'd be safe. He told her how sorry he was, that he wasn't a good husband or father, and that the burden should be his alone to bear. And do you know what my mother told him?"

Bodhi frowns and shakes his head.

"She told him to shut up," Jyn says with a half-smile as if she can see the moment clearly in her mind. "She told him that she wasn't going anywhere without him and that she was willing to take on the entire Empire if it meant keeping him with us. She told him she loved him, that he was a good man despite of what the Empire had planned and a better man because he planned to resist. The Empire didn't define him and he didn't define himself because of them. Neither should you."

Jyn looks at him then, her expression soft. "Cassian cares about you and I know you care about him too. He doesn't care about the Empire or your history with them, he cares about _you._ Don't let them haunt your chances of happiness and get in the way of that. Don't let them define you. You're stronger than that."

Bodhi chuckles faintly, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Thank you, Jyn."

She smiles and nudges her shoulder against his. "You're welcome, Bodhi," she says before pushing herself up and dusting her pants off. She looks back across the hangar toward Cassian before turning back to the still seated pilot. "My father used to tell me he could see the sun rise and set in my mother's eyes." She nods slightly toward the captain standing across the room. "That's the way Cassian looks at you. When he sees you he sees the sun."

She gives him one last quick smile before turning and walking away to find something else to work on. Bodhi watches her go and then turns his attention back to Cassian. The captain turns after a second, sees him looking, and smiles. It feels like the world lights up with it.

Bodhi leans back against the ship and enjoys the glow.

 **OOOOO**

"Do you love me?" Bodhi asks softly that night after the lights go out. The words come out shaky and hesitant, a breathless question flung out into the void. He stiffens the instant they leave his mouth, ready for the rebuke and the denial. He prepares himself for it like a blow and cringes in the darkness.

He'd been thinking about his conversation with Jyn all afternoon, her words ringing through his head like a bell. He thinks about his relationship with Cassian and what he hopes it might be. He thinks about love, whatever that means, and all he thinks of is Cassian. So when he finally musters up the courage to ask, he braces himself for whatever comes next.

Cassian is silent for a moment and Bodhi thinks the worst. He's preparing an excuse in his mind, sinking through layers of anxiety and shame, and he wishes more than anything he could take the words back.

"I mean it's okay if you don't," he stammers quickly, trying to fix the situation he created. "I know it's stupid and I shouldn't have asked but-"

"Bodhi," Cassian says simply and Bodhi stops talking. Another thick silence fills the space between them for a second or so and the darkness feels like it's crushing. When Cassian finally does speak again, his voice is equally soft in the darkness.

"I thought my feelings for you were obvious," he says quietly, a little hesitant as well like he's not sure where Bodhi lies in this conversation. They're both tiptoeing around the subject, not sure how the other will respond, and there's no telling how long this conversation has been waiting to happen.

His arm tightens just slightly around Bodhi's waist and he clears his throat quietly. "Do you-"

"Yes," Bodhi says quickly before he can continue. "I just wasn't sure. I mean we've never discussed it and I didn't want to bring it up and make things awkward between us but I didn't know-"

His words are cut off when Cassian pulls him closer and presses a soft, tentative kiss to his lips. For a moment neither of them breathe and time seems to stand still. When Cassian eventually pulls away a second later, Bodhi temporarily forgets how to breathe.

"I thought you knew," Cassian says after a moment and it sounds almost apologetic.

Bodhi shakes his head, still a little breathless from the kiss. "No," he answers honestly. "I mean I hoped and thought maybe but I didn't know for sure. It just seemed so impossible and-"

Cassian laughs then and cuts him off with another kiss. This one is a bit more solid, hungrier and more substantial. "Impossible," he says and the word sounds like a challenge to the universe. " _You_ are impossible," he continues, pressing his palm flat against the curve of Bodhi's face. "Impossible to resist, impossible to ignore…" He kisses him again and the pilot feels more and more intoxicated with each press of lips. "It would be impossible for me not to fall in love with you."

Bodhi rises up to meet him then, arching into him and holding on. He's drunk on euphoria and elation and Cassian's touch is more potent than any drug. He presses into him, craving the warmth of his hands and the pass of his fingertips. Cassian is all too happy to comply, hands tracing their way over Bodhi's body like he's drawing a map.

"I would have told you sooner," Cassian says, breath hot as he drags the words across Bodhi's collarbone. He shifts and his hands wander down, mapping out labyrinths and mazes and puzzles across the pilot's skin. "I would have told you a thousand times. I thought you knew."

Bodhi shakes his head, fingers digging into Cassian's shoulders tightly. "Tell me now," he breathes, biting back a soft moan as the captain's hips rock against his own.

"I love you," Cassian says and it sounds like a prayer and affirmation at the same time. His hands are everywhere now, ceaseless and electric like the brush of a raw nerve. He pulls Bodhi to him, breathes his name against the side of his throat and his hands drift lower.

Bodhi buries his face in the side of Cassian's throat, muffling the shuddered gasp that tumbles out of him. He can't think, he can't speak, he can barely breathe. The only thing he's aware of is _Cassian, Cassian, Cassian._ He clings to his name, latches onto it like a tether in a hurricane, and doesn't let go.

The bed looks like a warzone by the end of the night, sheets rumpled and strewn everywhere. They're wrapped together in a blanket on the mattress, skin warm and sweat damp. They hadn't slept that night but then neither of them had really wanted to.

"I love you," Bodhi says, squinting slightly as the first rays of sunlight begin filtering into their room. "I don't know that I could ever love anyone else the way I love you."

He can practically feel Cassian smile. "I love you too," the captain says, pressing a tender kiss to the pilot's forehead. "A thousand times over."

 **OOOOO**

"I think we should move in together," Cassian says one morning and Bodhi gracefully chokes on his coffee. He recovers easily and Cassian is unfazed by his outburst; he's gotten used to Bodhi's startled reactions over the past several months. To be fair he probably should have used a better segue but it he's already said it so there's no taking it back now.

"What brought this on?" Bodhi asks as he mops coffee off the side of his mug with a napkin. "Not that I'm opposed to the decision or anything."

Cassian's mouth quirks in a small half-smile. "It's just a suggestion. There's been talk of off-base housing units opening in the next few weeks and they're accepting applicants starting tomorrow. I thought I might look into it." His eyes flicker up to Bodhi briefly, expression as unreadable as always. "I thought I might look into it with you."

The pilot smiles and sets his mug down on the table. "It sounds nice," he says, voice a little hesitant. "Are you sure you want to do this, though? I mean, it's kind of a big step…"

Cassian levels him with a bland look. "Bodhi, we've been sharing a bed for the past seven months. I figured sharing an apartment was just the next logical step." For a very brief moment, flicker quick, Cassian looks unsure. "Listen, if you don't want to move in together-"

"No, I do! I do!" Bodhi tells him quickly, effectively cutting off whatever else he was about to say. "It's just...you know…" he mumbles to a stop, sighs, and starts again. "Living together is a big deal and I'm just worried that…" he fades off again, unable to complete the sentence he started.

Cassian frowns slightly and reaches across the table, taking the other man's hand gently. "You're worried about what?"

Bodhi doesn't answer for a second, running his thumb up and down the length of Cassian's hand lightly. Even after all this time, he's still not used to being this happy. He keeps expecting the rug to be jerked out from under him, sending him sprawling and dejected. The universe has a funny way of building him up just to watch him fall and he's always wary when things start going too well. He doesn't expect it from Cassian but he certainly expects it from his own luck.

"Bodhi," Cassian prompts gently, eyes leveled on the pilot. "Talk to me."

Bodhi sighs softly and squeezes his hand before speaking. "I'm just worried you'll start to get tired of me."

The captain sits back so fast his shoulders bounce off the back of the chair. It's like a punch in the stomach, how serious Bodhi is when he says it. Surely he can't think that, he can't really wonder if Cassian will ever get tired of him. Right? It's laughably absurd but Cassian isn't laughing.

It bothers him that Bodhi would ever think something like that but he knows better than anyone that the pilot still struggles with episodes of crippling self-doubt that leave him questioning his place on the team and with Cassian. He never brings it up, never mentions it, but moments like this just solidify his belief that he still doubts where he stands.

Cassian shakes his head slightly and lifts their intertwined hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Bodhi's wrist. "The day I get tired of you if the day I get tired of breathing," he tells him earnestly. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share a home and my life with than you."

For a second the pilot doesn't speak. He seems a little surprised by the answer but at the same time he looks relieved. He smiles and squeezes Cassian's hand in return. "If you're sure."

"Positive," Cassian tells him with a warm smile reserved only for him. "Besides, where would I be without my pilot?"

Three days later they find themselves standing in an empty apartment, lease signed and keys in hand. It's a smaller unit, one bedroom with corresponding amenities, but it's more than enough for the two of them. It's tucked away in the middle of the sprawling cluster of buildings, bracketed on either side by multi-floor buildings housing apartments similar to theirs. It's surreal in a way, like living in the middle of a small city surrounding them on each side.

They don't have much in the way of furniture between them but what they do have gets moved in later that afternoon. At some point they'll probably need to look into purchasing some more permanent furnishings for their apartment but that's something that can wait until later. They have a bed, a shower, and roof and that's all that matters at the moment.

The sun is just beginning to set when Cassian finds Bodhi flat on his back in their bedroom, sprawled across the mattress and staring at the ceiling. He has an odd, slow smile on his face that makes the captain quirk an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

Bodhi nods and gestures for Cassian to join him on the bed. The mattress is flat on the floor, unmade, but it's comfortable and Cassian doesn't need much encouragement to join the pilot down on the floor. He sinks down onto the mattress and lays back, pulling Bodhi into his arms.

"It's been a long time since I had a home," Bodhi tells him quietly, pillowing his head against Cassian's shoulder. "I had almost given up on the idea of ever having one again." He smiles and presses a soft kiss to the curve of Cassian's jaw. "I'm glad we did this."

The captain smiles and leans down, catching the pilot in a proper kiss. "I'm glad we did too." He holds Bodhi close and flattens his shoulders against the mattress, breathing in the very concept of _their_ apartment. "It's good to be home."

 **OOOOO**

Cassian wakes up with sunlight in his face and Bodhi in his arms. It's early, obscenely so, and he knows for a fact there's no reason for him to be awake right now. They're on leave for the rest of the week, no missions, no assignments, nothing, so he knows there isn't a pressing matter that requires his immediate attention. So why in all the worlds is he awake at this absurd time?

He frowns mildly and squints at the digital clock reflecting the time on the wall above their bed. He resists the urge to groan; as expected it is _way_ too early to be awake right now. This has to be some kind of cosmic punishment for something he's just not sure what; there's nothing else that would explain why he's wide awake at what-the-hell-o'clock in the morning with nothing to show for it.

He sighs and drops his head back down onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Bodhi is a warm, familiar weight against his chest, one arm stretched over Cassian's torso while the other remains tucked up beneath him. Their legs are tangled together and the point of Bodhi's knee is tucked under the curve of Cassian's. They fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, frayed and disjointed until they come connect with each other to make a coherent image.

Cassian smiles softly and hugs Bodhi a bit closer to him. The pilot mumbles something softly under his breath but doesn't wake up and Cassian is silently grateful for that. It had taken months for both of them to get to the point where they could sleep together through the night without interruption and it's still a relatively new experience to wake up feeling safe and relaxed. The nightmares were still there, it's impossible to get rid of them completely, but they're not as frequent and certainly not as violent.

There had been a time in his life when the thought of waking up with someone in bed with him on a daily basis would have seemed laughable. He had accepted the fact that he would probably die alone from an early age, the civil wars that tore through the galaxy serving as a constant reminder that he was more likely to face a violent, bloody death in his youth than live to see old age. Forget marriage or companionship; survival was the only thing he focused on from the time he was six years old.

But here he was, alive and grown with the love of his life in his arms. He has no idea what he did to get it right but he knows he'd give up everything in the galaxy to keep it this way.

Bodhi's fingers drum sleepily against his ribs and his breathing changes just slightly. "Why are you awake?" he asks quietly, voice muzzy and thick with sleep.

Cassian smiles softly and presses a kiss to the top of his sleep-mussed hair. "I could ask you the same question."

"You're thinking," Bodhi mumbles, pressing a bit closer to him. "Loudly." He reaches up with one slightly uncoordinated hand and brushes his knuckles along the underside of Cassian's jaw. "You'll wake up our neighbors if you keep that up."

The captain smiles and catches his hand, pressing a kiss to his fingertips lightly. "They've heard worse from us," he replies cheekily, getting the desired response when Bodhi chuckles softly and hides his face in the fabric of Cassian's shirt. He loves that Bodhi still gets all self-conscious and flustered when he casually brings up the details of their personal life; it's adorably endearing.

"Go back to sleep," he tells the pilot quietly, carding his fingers through the other man's dark, unruly hair.

Bodhi sighs heavily against him and tightens the arm around his waist. "Only if you do, too."

The captain smiles again and relents because he's never been able to deny Bodhi anything. He settles back down against the mattress and pulls the pilot back into his arms, concentrating on the push-pull of his breathing and the steady thump of his heart against his ribs.

It's easy to drift off again, warm and content in their apartment with Bodhi in his arms. It's the first time in a long time they've been able to sleep in like this and sleeping in together makes it that much better. Besides, it's much too early to be up anyway.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading guys! :D**


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